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Page 93
CHAPTER XVI
Death of McKee, Disappointed Desperado
Bud's conscience was not troubling him so much now. In fact, he
was rather proud of his conduct of late. He had "shaken" Buck
McKee, and he had forgiven Echo for all the hard thoughts he had
against her--without considering that she would be more than
woman if she failed to harbor resentment against the man who had
prevented her from calling her husband back from the desert.
In the absence of Slim, both Bud and McKee attained a feeling of
security in the matter of Terrill murder. McKee had already
ventured to use some of his share of the robbery in gambling.
Bud had not yet convinced himself either of the right or the
advisability of spending his share. Both conscience and fear
advised him to keep the blood-money intact. He carried it with
him wherever he went, and became, in time, quite pleased with
himself because of his compunctions in doing so. He was even
pharisaical about McKee's gambling. No, when his mind had come
clear about keeping it, he would make an honest use of it, such
as investing it in a saloon in Florence. When, however, he
suggested to Polly that dispensing liquors over a bar and running
a faro-game on the side would be a congenial occupation, suited
to their talents, she sat down forcibly upon his aspiration, and
they finally compromised on Polly's proposition to conduct a
livery-stable in Tucson, where, Polly felt, though she did not
say so to Bud, that Sheriff Hoover, with whom she had been
flirting too dangerously, would not be in evidence, as in
Florence.
Polly, however, was greatly puzzled over Bud's confidence in his
ability to raise the wind that would launch this delectable, but
to her mind illusory, enterprise. In a moment of weakness he
intimated that he already had the money in hand.
How had he got it? she demanded.
"Saved it," he said.
When she asked him how he could have saved the thousand dollars
demanded for the stable out of his salary of forty dollars a
month, he replied:
"By economizin'. I've cut off my chawin-tobacco."
"That cost you two bits a week, an' you've taken up cigarettes at
a dime a day," said observant Polly. "I know what you've been
doin', you've been gamblin'."
"Cross my heart, Polly, I haven't," said Bud, and Polly, who had
no great objection to using money won at cards, so long as she
did not positively know the fact, discontinued her objections,
and resumed the delightful occupation of castle-building. The
home she had in view consisted of three rooms over the
livery-stable.
"I want a red carpet in the front room, and wallpaper like that
at Bowen's store, with hosses jumpin' gates on it--"
"Don't you think there will be a leetle too much hoss there,
Polly, with the stable under us, an' the smell a-comin' up--"
"Sho, Bud, you can't have too much hoss. Why, it was the hoss
smell about your clothes that made me fall in love with you,"
exclaimed the enthusiastic horsewoman. She continued:
"An' I want a yellow plush furniture set, an' a photograph-album
to match, an' a center-table, an' a Rock-of-Ages picture, an' a
boudoir--"
A boudoir was beyond the ken of Bud. He knew nothing of
housekeeping. This must be one of those strange articles, the
mystery of which he would have to solve before he could feel that
he was really a married man.
"What the devil is a boudoir?" he asked.
"I don't know what it is, but all rich women have them."
Bud took both of Polly's hands in his. Looking her fondly in the
eyes, he said: "Then, by thunder, I'll get you two of 'em.
We'll raise the limit when we furnish that shack. I'm the
happiest man in the country."
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